


Once Said, Always Said

by deathwailart



Series: Red Hoods [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coping, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which some things don't last forever and others do.  An AU set after Destination Unknown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Said, Always Said

Robin leaves home with a ringing in her ears, angry words and tears following her as she packs what she can. Ambrose hovers more than helps even after they explain. _Once a wolf, always a wolf_ , is her mother's retort.  
  
Turns out her mother was right but it takes a while for them to find that out.  
  
Her father didn't offer a word in defence instead saying he should have listened to the teachings of her mother because it was in her blood. Not his blood, he married into this family but even so she could see the agony in his eyes when her and her mother argued because he wouldn't see her again unless he did so in secret. She packed what she could that night and clattered down the stairs after one last hug from her father where he squeezed so tight it had hurt; there are rules, treaties, oaths and other such things that all Red Hoods are meant to abide by but Robin doesn't know how those work now that she's out. Old enough to know how to kill but old enough to be bogged down by the many intricacies of the family business – fraternisation with a werewolf is probably grounds for being declared persona non grata. Maybe enough to be names as one who should be hunted too. All the relief she felt helping Ambrose evaporates to be replaced by a sickly anxiety, a panic that drapes itself across her shoulders and refuses to be shrugged off. Ambrose watches her with big dark eyes full of sorrow and regret; he tried to apologise but she stopped him. She made her choice and she stands by it. He changed and so did she, now they are something remade.  
  
Ambrose leaves his flat because it isn't safe, it's far too easy for them to find out where he lives and come for them and there are nights where she doesn't sleep for worrying and other nights where she has cold sweat nightmares. Ambrose is always up hours before her, sitting at the kitchen table with a thousand yard stare, hunched in on himself and too often he flinches at her touch. Her mother's words linger in her mind but who can she ask about them? There's no one. It's her and Ambrose and a new home, temporary though it may be. No ties to any friends or family. At first it makes her go mad just from the silence. It's too hard for them to talk to each other as this gulf starts to grow between them when all Ambrose wants to do is apologise and she doesn't want his apologies because she doesn't need them but every time she tries to say that it comes out wrong and she sounds angry. Part of her is hurt more deeply than she can understand by her parents not caring, that they can't accept that there's more to a werewolf than her mother's beliefs and that they won't believe her when she says Ambrose is good, that he's never hurt anyone and that he's not a werewolf anymore. The rest of her is angry with them, angry at them, this impotent rage sitting in her chest that she can't let out because she doesn't know what she'd do. She feels little better than a wild animal. She's never been violent but this sort of anger makes her want to lash out, to sink her teeth and nails in, rip and tear and maybe a hysterical part of her wonders if Ambrose's lycanthropy has passed to her. If it's in her now waiting to emerge.  
  
It's a stupid thought but she has nightmares about it and feels guilty. She told him he wasn't a monster and that she loved him no matter his choice but here she is having cold sweat, heart-stopping nightmares about her own body turning to that of a rabid wolf.  
  
Sometimes she's terrified they'll drift apart even as she tries to broach the subject with him, when she reaches out she can feel him pull away from her, from them, curl in on himself and shut the world out. And she doesn't know what she's meant to do with that. What if he leaves? What if one morning he's gone and she's alone, entirely alone. He did that once. He was alone as a child and alone before she came into his life but she's never experienced that, not really. She can't go home. They might let her back if she said sorry, if she sobbed and begged and promised to hunt down every last wolf with them but her pride would never let her and she doubts she could ever bury her head in the sand with regards to the truth again either. There are long months of getting her new life together. She's a graduate but getting a job is a pain when there are hardly enough jobs as it is and she should try to prod Ambrose into doing something at least so he has a distraction but every time she opens her mouth the words get caught in her throat. When she gets a job she comes home beaming because it's something, it's a start.  
  
Ambrose is gone. His possessions are still there but he's gone and she stands alone in the doorway with her heart in her throat, mouth dry, feeling as though she's about to faint. Instinct takes over, years of training and she runs upstairs to change into clothes she didn't think she'd wear again; her hoodie is as warm as ever, the red faded from years of washing, her gun tucked into her belt and a knife in her boot as though nothing has changed only everything has. She runs out, slamming the door shut behind her as she tries to get her bearings, wondering where he's gone. This place is so new that she doesn't know where to go or where to look but if her first instinct is to put on her old garb of a Red Hood then he'll maybe go with his gut too and find the nearest woods. She spends hours in those woods until her lungs burn, her voice mostly gone by the time she finds him and she almost vomits. He lies curled on the ground, trembling and bloodied. His teeth are chattering and he's whimpering lowly like a wounded animal and when she gets to her knees to touch him he recoils with a ragged sob.  
  
"Ambrose, Ambrose it's me," she whispers, dropping to her knees at his side, stroking his arm. He's burning up and bloodied and the yelp he lets out is one of pain so she jerks her hand away as if scalded. "Ambrose please, I don't know what to do."  
  
"It didn't work," he moans, refusing to meet her eyes as he curls up tighter. That's when she notices he's clutching something that looks an awful lot like bloodied fur and her first thought is that he's hurt someone or something, that he's snapped. But she recognises it and she remembers old teachings passed down to her in the earliest years of her training.  
  
"Oh Ambrose," she says and he doesn't resist when she reaches out, too exhausted and upset to fight her.  
  
Once a wolf, always a wolf. She hauls him upright, tucking his head under her chin and the skin between them, fighting back her tears. Once a wolf, always a wolf but no matter what she'll love him.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Good To Know If I Need Attention by Brand New


End file.
